by J. A. Howell
Pulling myself off the bed I trudged toward the bathroom and discarded the Nolan-scented shirt. I stopped, hesitating in the doorway for a moment as my eyes stared down at the tub, imagining Brody laying there. Despite the last couple of times in here scaring the crap out of me, I finally knew the reasons behind what happened. The message Brody was trying to convey to me.
Still, my hand shook a little as I twisted the faucet on. “I would really appreciate it if you don’t scare the shit out of me, Brody.” Thankfully, he seemed to have listened, but I was still on high alert, unable to relax as the water ran over me. I did get my mind of Nolan though, and that was what I needed.
As I stepped out of the shower, I could hear Remy racing from the kitchen and darting across the living room. Where that kitten put all that food I had no idea, but it seemed to have a direct effect on his energetic outbursts. After drying off and putting on a clean pair of jeans and my work shirt, I peeked out of the bathroom to see Remy trotting excitedly from the other direction as if he were chasing something. I followed him as he scrambled around the corner into my bedroom, his plump posterior nearly getting caught as he wriggled underneath one of the nightstands.
“Remy, what on earth are you going after?” I attempted to kneel down but it was no use with a bum knee. A moment later, Remy's backside wriggled back into view and he tore off back in the direction of the living room carrying a scrap of paper in his mouth. “Remy! Come back here!” I hobbled after him, following the trail of jubilant mew’s as his paws pounced against the floor. I found him sitting back on his haunches, pawing at the air feverishly, attempting to swat at something I couldn't see. He dropped the paper beside him; it was no longer of interest now that he had something else to hold his attention.
As I watched Remy, I remembered what Alannah said about being more open. My mother always told me that animals, especially cats, were more open to spirits. Watching him now, Remy was acting just as he was the day I found him sitting on the counter. I slowly sat on the couch across from him. Whatever or whoever he was playing with, I couldn't see.
“Brody?” I felt a chill run up my spine, but nobody answered. I turned my attention to the piece of paper, a yellowed newspaper clipping. I flipped it over from the advertisement that faced up to find myself staring at Claire. I looked back at Remy in disbelief, then back to Claire's image.
The headline read “21 Year old Woman Slain, Body Left In Woods Behind Midtown University”. I scanned the article, but there was no mention of suspects, only a description of how she died. Blunt force trauma to the skull with signs of strangulation. Claire Stevens had been raped, tortured, and beaten in what the paper deemed was “One of the most horrific murders Midtown has seen in thirty years.” Her body had been buried in the snow for a week before she was found by a search party.
That's going to be you, a voice in the back of my head taunted me. My stomach lurched at the thought of her icy hand gripping my wrist. My eyes continued down the article, scanning for any information that might help. Nothing. I let out a heavy sigh and dropped my hand back onto on the coffee table before returning my attention to Remy. He was watching me with two wide blue eyes, tilting his head curiously to the side. He suddenly reared up and jumped at my hand, swatting and pawing at my thumb where I was still gripping the yellowed newsprint.
“What? You want the paper? Maybe you can figure out what he’s trying to tell me.” I smiled as Remy continued, relentless and determined to pry my fingers away. After a moment, I released the paper from my grasp and he slowly backed away, plopping down on his rump and staring at me once more. If only he could just tell me what Brody was trying to show me. Just for show I glanced over at the article one more time, running my eyes from top to bottom. They stopped on two names I hadn't seen before, scribbled in red ink on the corner that I had been holding onto.
Sophia Clarice Rollins
Ashley Tate- 1989
There was no mention of an Ashley or a Sophia in the article, but if Brody was bringing this to my attention then there had to be something he wanted me to find out about them. Either that or the crazy cat lady thing was starting to kick in. I didn't have to be at the pub for a few hours. There would be plenty of time to stop off at the library and look them up. I glanced over at Remy once more. I didn’t want to leave him alone again, but he didn't seem too concerned with my presence anymore. He’d found a piece of carpet sticking up that now held his interest. His content purring assured me he would be fine with some food and water left out until I got home from work.
My teeth chattered as I made the trek to the library. The sky was a dark gray, with no hint of sunshine for so early in the day. Not cold enough for snow, I noted. The tenseness in my shoulders eased slightly at this small reassurance and I approached the expansive steps that led up to the library’s brick edifice. An uneasy feeling still churned deep in the pit of my stomach, reminding me I was up against an impossible deadline, or that someone was out there watching me from the shadows waiting for me to fail. I let out a shiver as my hand gripped the door handle and looked back toward the street with a suspicious eye before heading for the computer lab.
The interior of the library was just as impressive as the exterior with its high curved ceilings, marble floors, and endless rows of books. If I made it through the next couple of weeks, I would have to remind myself to get a library card. Definitely would give me some variety from the flowery romance novels at the apartment. I looked over the well-worn spines that stared back at me as I made my way to the back of the library. Some were old leather with gold stamping shining back at me, others were covered in laminated dust jackets, marked appropriately in the Dewey Decimal System, and even more were aged paperbacks, worn around the edges with numerous cracks running down their spines. In short, I was in heaven.
In the back of the library, there were a couple rows of PC's, none currently in use. I sat down at the closest one to me, pulling up a search engine in the browser. I searched for the first name, “Sophia Clarice Rollins”, and as I combed through the search results, I found myself once again staring at Claire. Confused, I looked down at the newspaper article again. Not the same name. It didn’t seem to make sense to me. I looked back up at the computer screen, studying the information about Sophia. She was from Abbeville, a town that wasn’t far from where I’d lived in Louisiana.
Even more intrigued, I typed in “Ashley Tate, 1989.” A few seconds later, search results came up. Nothing significant seemed to jump out at me as I scrolled down the page. Not giving up, I clicked onto the second page of results.
What am I looking for, Brody? My eyes anxiously scanned the screen as I slowly scrolled down once more. Then there it was. A news article, archived from 1989. The headline read “Local Woman Found Dead On Bank Of Vermilion River.” My heart stopped for a second as I gawked at the headline. Ashley Tate was from Louisiana too? I was even more perplexed with this connection and it took me a few seconds to gather myself before I could click into the article.
“August 15, 1989, Ashley Tate, 18 years old from Abbeville, LA, was found dead in the Vermilion River Sunday afternoon after being reported missing one week earlier. A couple canoeing spotted Ms. Tate's body floating near the bank and notified authorities. The cause of death appears to have been strangulation, the murder weapon still around Ms. Tate's throat when authorities located her body. Ms. Tate's body also showed extensive signs of both physical and sexual abuse. Police are continuing to conduct a thorough investigation of the area and are asking anyone with any information to contact the Abbeville Police Department immediately.”
I read the article several times, trying to make sense of it. My eyes stared intently at Ashley Tate's image, a posed picture from her senior year of high school. The bright blue eyes and long dark hair were hauntingly familiar. I felt nauseous and lightheaded as I remembered Claire’s face from my dreams. Just like Ashley, just like me.
Bright blue eyes, long dark hair, straight out of Louisiana.
&nb
sp; Strangled, beaten, raped.
That was what Brody had wanted me to see. Their deaths weren’t just similar, their deaths were related. Somehow I knew they were a grim glimpse of my future if I didn’t connect all the pieces. The acrid taste of bile burnt my throat as I sat there looking back and forth between these two girls. I felt the sickness threatening to escape. Keep it together, Harley, this isn’t helping anything. I took in a deep breath, closing my eyes, waiting until the hectic tempo of my heartbeat calmed to a slow trot. A few moments later I opened my eyes, gathered my things, and leaned forward to shut off the monitor. The screen flickered to black just in time for me to notice one more thing.
I hadn’t been alone.
The reflection of a tall figure disappeared around one of the shelves before I could turn around. Snatching my bag from the table, I quickly followed after them only to find myself in an empty aisle as adrenaline pumped through my veins. Maybe I had imagined that, I told myself as if it would be any comfort. I knew the truth though. I didn’t just feel like I was being watched.
Someone was watching me.
CHAPTER TWENTY ONE
Awkward Irish Boners
As I neared the pub, my head was still swimming with thoughts of Ashley, Claire, and the mystery figure that had been watching me. Every few seconds I would glance back, but so many people filled the streets, any one of them could be following me. Having to work my shift at Finley’s didn’t serve as any comfort either. My thoughts wandered, rather vividly, to Nolan’s kiss as soon as I walked in the door.
Aggie was busy with customers, but nodded in my direction with a rather benign look. I had expected her usual mischievous smirk, given the position she had last seen me and Nolan in. I hesitated at the kitchen door as my heartbeat thumped loudly in my ears. Nolan was somewhere on the other side and all I could think about was how his body felt pressed against mine.
Stop it, Harley, he's your boss. I bit my lip as I forced the thoughts back and made myself run over the specials for the day to busy my mind. Five dollar fish and chips, three dollar domestics, oh, and it's ladies' night tonight!
“Mornin', Harley.” Nolan's husky tone sent a shiver through me as his cerulean eyes caught mine. He stood by his office with a pen and clipboard in hand, studying me as I stood awkward and stiff at the opposite end of the kitchen. I immediately looked to his lips as they pursed into a concerned pout and was reminded of the taste of them. Goosebumps ran down my arms at the thought of gently biting at his bottom lip. Jesus Harley, you haven't even clocked in yet...and there are much more pressing matters at hand.
I shook my head and he raised an eyebrow curiously.
“Um...ya alright?”
“Yep, I'm great!” I nodded with a big smile as I forced my legs to move again and went to clock in.
“Ok, I was just askin' how you were handlin' things. Ya took off before I woke up this mornin'.”
I hadn’t even realized he’d been speaking.
“Right! Thanks, I think I'm doing okay today. I just needed to take care of Remy and run a few errands before work.” I managed to speak despite his close proximity and busied myself with tying on my apron. I could hear his short, nervous breaths as he watched me and I prayed he wouldn't bring up what happened between us.
“Listen, about last night...”
Shit.
“Yeah, about that. I was really emotional from everything that had happened. It was completely inappropriate of me to do that, since you’re my boss and all.”
“Um, right…well if ya need someone ta talk ta about what happened with yer friend, my door’s always open.” A look of disappointment flickered through his eyes as he stared at me and I bit my lip as my own breathing hitched.
“Ya sure yer alright?” His voice pulled me back and I noticed his gaze as it dropped to my mouth.
“Yeah. I should probably get out there and help Aggie.”
“Right. I’ll see ya later then. I've got more inventory ta go through back there,” his lips twitched into a nervous smile as he motioned toward the storage closet behind me, the pen flinging out of his hand. “Aw, feck.” We both watched as it rolled into the storage closet and underneath one of the metal racks. He got down on his hands and knees in front of it, cursing under his breath as he tried to squeeze his large hand between the small gap underneath.
“Did you need me to grab you another pen?” I asked as I pulled one from my apron.
“No, that one was my lucky pen. My father gave it ta me.” He sighed as he pulled his hand back. “Hmmph, I can't grab it. The opening's too small.”
“Maybe I can try?” I held up a hand, and wiggled my fingers at him.
“Sure. I mean, if ya don't mind.” He stood up in the narrow closet to allow me room and I got down on my hands and knees, peering underneath before I slipped my slender arm under the rack and grasped the shiny silver pen with my fingertips.
“There, I got it!” I grinned up at him as I pulled my hand out and went to sit up, “Ow!”
“Ah, Christ I think it snagged yer hair.” I let out another yelp as I confirmed the obvious. I couldn't reach where it was caught and remained helpless, stuck with my face an inch from the floor. “Hold on, I can get it fer ya.” Nolan moved behind me, kneeling down and leaning over my back so that he could get a good view of where the hair was caught. I became very aware of the heat radiating from him as his large form gently pressed against my backside and his fingers slipped into my hair. I tried to distract myself, staring toward a box of condiments, but something else caught my eye.
“A spider!” I let out in involuntary squeal as I saw eight fuzzy black legs creep down the side of the box and under the rack next to me.
“A wha? Quit moving Harley, yer goin ta snag yer hair more!” I shook my head scooting back the couple inches I could as the arachnid continued on its path straight toward me.
“Hurry Nolan! It's coming for my face!”
“Well stop moving and I will.” Nolan snorted as he fought back laughter. I tried to remain still, but the spider made a sudden skitter toward my hand.
“Nolan! Please!” I pulled my hand back and it turned toward my other hand. “Just rip it out!”
“I'm not going to rip out yer hair! Just quit wriggling about!” The demented spider turned back in my direction, inching closer toward my face as its little black eyes gleamed at me.
“Hurry Nolan! It's going to bite my face!” I squirmed back against him as he emitted a “umph” and a hand tightly squeezed my hip.
“Quit, wr-wriggling, w-woman!” His voice was suddenly strained, like someone had knocked the wind out of him.
“What in God's name are you two doing?” Aggie's voice startled us both as Nolan's hand squeezed harder.
“It's not what it looks like! I dropped my pen!” He huffed as his other hand continued to tug at my caught strands of hair.
“And where precisely did you drop your pen?” Aggie giggled.
“Guys?” I pleaded.
“No! Her hair got caught while she was grabbing my pen!”
“Guys!”
“That's not exactly sounding better, you know?”
“It's right by my face!” I shrieked as one of the spider's legs brushed against my forehead and I threw myself back against Nolan as my hair gave way with a painful snap. He caught me as he fell into the rack behind him and the spider skittered back into hiding, having accomplished his goal of scaring the shit out of me. I held a hand to my forehead where my hair was yanked out as Nolan shifted uncomfortably beneath me. “Oh god, I’m sorry, Nolan.”
I pulled myself off of him and stood, reaching a hand down to help him up. He only shook his head, as he gathered his legs together and bit his lip.
“I’ll get up in a second.” His voice still sounded strained.
“I didn't hurt you did I?” I looked down at him with a worried expression as his eyes avoided mine.
“No! No, I’m fine. Ya go on. I’ll get up in a second.”
&n
bsp; “Christ Nolan, can't ya control that thing?” Aggie laughed and Nolan gave her a fierce stare as his ears and cheeks burned bright red.
“Agatha, don't you have some customers to get back to?” His eyes narrowed at her as his hand shielded any further proof to her teasing.
“I'll go see if anyone needs a refill,” I could feel my own cheeks growing as red as Nolan's and quickly turned for the front.
“Aggie, quit grinning like that,” I turned in the opposite direction as she re-emerged from the kitchen.
“Oh don't get so embarrassed, Harley. So you got Nolan a little excited with all that squirming about you did in the storage closet.” She giggled. “Looked like you two were doing worse last night.”
“Aggie, shh!”
Her lips curled at the corners as she lifted an eyebrow.
“Fine, fine! I didn't just come back there to harass you two. I was going to tell you that my birthday is tomorrow and I was thinking the three of us should go out on the town tonight to celebrate.”
“Me, you, and Nolan?” I shook my head, “I don't know. I'm not much of a dancer.”
“After a few drinks I'm sure you will be. If not, just stick to your moves from the storage room.” She waggled an eyebrow and patted my cheek before grabbing the food for her table.
CHAPTER TWENTY TWO
Dancing the Night Away
Somehow I managed through the rest of my shift, though Nolan was notably less present for most of it. Aggie made the occasional comment about the incident in the storage room but for the most part left me alone. During the few lulls in business, my mind wandered back to the other girls. The girls like me. I still felt clueless and I wasn’t sure how great the idea of going out with Aggie and Nolan was given my situation. Well, at least that means I won’t be alone. I’ll be out with them.
